Reims, France

Reims, France

(A Poetry in People O.G.)

Making our way from the Boeuf ou Salade restaurant, we came upon the small park after a short stroll.  As the path wound in a circle, he sat across the way.  He took no notice of us, loud and American as we were.  He was so quintessentially French, encapsulating the charm and sophistication that seemed to infuse the air around us.  I hesitated to take his photo, having been shooed away with abrupt "Non! Non!" just they day before by a man on the steps of Sacre Coeur in Montmartre collecting pigeons on his outstretched arms.  But we were young and giddy, propelled by the confidence a trip abroad and sips of champagne can offer and I was, myself, lightheaded with the brewing symptoms of first love -- the slow and airy disengagement from reality where nothing else is in focus and consequences have no place.  Perhaps he would catch me stealing his moment as he sat, reading from son journal but no matter. There would be love waiting at the other end regardless.